There is an irony of sorts with the quote below. Greg Boyd, who mentioned it on his Twitter account, is a pastor and scholar. He holds to Open Theism, a position, I do not. Boyd wrote a terrific book called The Myth of a Christian Nation. I recommend it highly.
Lesson: All of us must be careful to listen and learn from others, even when we are predisposed to write them off.
The comment below is to a friend about one of his friends. It is easy to know what the friend of my friend doesn’t believe (it includes some of the silliness I don’t believe), but tough to know what he believes. Here’s the analogy I came up with:
At the end of it all I scratch my head every time wondering what he still believes. He states various presuppositions, but it seems he holds to a faith so tentative that it is difficult to see any scandal of the cross. Lots of bad meat is sliced off the theological turkey, but it seems we won’t be eating any meat at his house. Instead, it looks like he is only keen on using the carcass for spiritual soup.
I trust several of you are wrestling with what Rod Dreher has dubbed The Benedict Option. Much needed conversation, with quite a bit of feisty debate is being spawned by Dreher’s book. I will be reviewing Dreher’s book and a few others which are being called “alarmist” by some, but for now let me direct your attention to a terrific essay by Alan Jacobs (my gratitude to Bill Bridgman for bringing this to my attention). If you don’t read the entire thing, then chew on this:
In 1974, when the great bishop-theologian Lesslie Newbigin retired from his decades of labor in the Church of South India, he and his wife decided to make their way back to their native England by whatever kind of transportation was locally available, taking their time, seeing parts of the world that most Europeans never think of: from Chennai to Birmingham by bus. Newbigin would later write in his autobiography, Unfinished Agenda, that everywhere they went, even in the most unlikely places, they found Christian communities—with one exception. “Cappadocia, once the nursery of Christian theology, was the only place in our whole trip where we had to have our Sunday worship by ourselves, for there was no other Christian to be found.”
If the complete destruction of a powerful and beautiful Christian culture could happen in Cappadocia, it can happen anywhere, and to acknowledge that possibility is mere realism, not a refusal of Christian hope. One refuses Christian hope by denying that Jesus Christ will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead, not by saying that Christianity can disappear from a particular place at a particular time.
As quoted in Alan Jacobs, “The Benedict Option and the Way of Exchange,” First Things, March 20, 2017
There are many things that certainly could be debated about what was said in Trump’s speech. One is not debatable, at least among Christians. Trump mentioned that God will protect us. Yes, we should pray for God’s protection, but we can’t simply invoke that God will protect us. Did God protect us on 9/11? If the answer is yes, then what does protection mean? If the answer is no, then how can we be confident God will protect us now?
Many Christians are in great need of a slower read through the book of Jeremiah. We are not Israel (or Judah) to be sure which actually makes the point above. If God did not protect the only nation He ever chose to be a light to the Gentiles, how can we believe God is indebted to protect us?!
In my own interactions I’ve found the hardened categories of liberal and conservative, or left and right, to be confusing and not helpful. Too many claim these labels without knowing what they mean.
I’ve never had difficulties interacting, even debating, with liberals in the best sense of that word, or conservatives in the best sense of that word. I have had much difficulty with illiberals who think they are liberals, and conspiratorial folks who claim conservatism. Neither are very knowledgeable of political philosophy or history.
Long ago Thomas Kuhn introduced into the history of science the concept of incommensurability: theories whose premises are so radically divergent that adherents of one theory simply cannot speak coherently and usefully with adherents of another. Alasdair MacIntyre would later, in After Virtue, apply this concept to debates in moral philosophy: “Every one of the arguments is logically valid or can be easily expanded so as to be made so; the conclusions do indeed follow from the premises. But the rival premises are such that we possess no rational way of weighing the claims of one as against another…. It is precisely because there is in our society no established way of deciding between these claims that moral argument appears to be necessarily interminable.”
Carlos Eire, eminent professor of history and religious studies at Yale helpfully explains the mythical spell of Fidel Castro:
Oddly enough, some will mourn his passing, and many an obituary will praise him… Because deceit was one of Fidel Castro’s greatest talents, and gullibility is one of the world’s greatest frailties. A genius at myth-making, Castro relied on the human thirst for myths and heroes. His lies were beautiful, and so appealing. According to Castro and to his propagandists, the so-called revolution was not about creating a repressive totalitarian state and securing his rule as an absolute monarch, but rather about eliminating illiteracy, poverty, racism, class differences and every other ill known to humankind. This bold lie became believable, thanks largely to Castro’s incessant boasting about free schools and medical care, which made his myth of the benevolent utopian revolution irresistible to many of the world’s poor.
Many intellectuals, journalists and educated people in the First World fell for this myth, too — though they would have been among the first to be jailed or killed by Castro in his own realm — and their assumptions acquired an intensity similar to that of religious convictions. Pointing out to such believers that Castro imprisoned, tortured and murdered thousands more of his own people than any other Latin American dictator was usually futile. His well-documented cruelty made little difference, even when acknowledged, for he was judged according to some aberrant ethical code that defied logic.